


Pizza with the Undead

by poppa_rantaro



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: i care you guys💕❤🤞, p.s excuse all memes and undercase typing i get lazy sometimes, read beginning notes for disclaimers and other stuff, sooo zombie robots?, there's lots of bad stuff in this so don't risk reading before you read notes, yes that misspell was intentional, zombie robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppa_rantaro/pseuds/poppa_rantaro
Summary: Mike works at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, a place where fun and fantasy comes to life.The status quo changes once the animatronics are suddenly man-eaters....atleast he gets out of the Fazbear's contract.
Relationships: None (maybe)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	Pizza with the Undead

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers;
> 
> Graphic Depictions of Gore  
> Swearing  
> Mentions of Death  
> Mentions of Drug Use
> 
> This fanfiction is based off all of the 2014 theories, so sadly, Mike is not Michael Afton, he's just Mike Schmidt.
> 
> Seth is Phone Guy, I feel uncomfortable using Scott's real name for possible slash fanfiction--so I changed it to a different one.
> 
> That's..pretty much it. Enjoy!

Mike Schmidt was a patient man.

Yeah, of course he had his moments. Those moments where he just--blew up in someone's face. Honestly, though, he was patient for the most part.

It was Tuesday, today, which meant the animatronics were just a little more active and about today. Chica had just waltzed up right to his door, and Bonnie still resides at his left, draining his power to swing below a percentage he kept as a lifeboat.

Around 59%, but Bonnie wasn't shaking off. He flickered the light a few times, although, and the rabbit seemed to stalk off back to the backstage to sulk in there.

Mike was patient.

So, he let this slide.

His heart slid in his chest each time they arrived at his doorway, Foxy getting way too close to opening the curtains for Mike's preferences. He seemed to like watching the camera swivel around, the same way a dog likes to watch it's favorite ball bounce around.

He looked away for a few seconds, and then a few more. Today was pretty bad, and he's starting to wonder if someone fucked with their A.I. settings. It was probably the new technician, really.

Mike huffed, shuffling the hat atop his head, trying to wish away the migraine forming.

He might be losing his patience,

but a soft growl was enough of a growl for Mike to hear. He'd learned how to listen closely for noises and atoned his senses in the process. He could hear the slightest noises, and now whenever one arrived at his door, he could always tell.

It's..a gut feeling, in reality.

Mike whipped his head to the side, hat nearly falling off his head in the process of glaring at the door. He quickly adjusted the hat to not fall over his eyes, and switched the light on at his right.

...

Nothing.

He felt a small chill run down his spine, and he couldn't tell if it was from the cold.

The door sat dead, an empty silence overcalling the restaraunt. Dust collected and swept through the air, mere speckles in the fluorescent, sapphire lights. No animatronic sat there, but low growls made their way closer, shadowing the children's drawings on the wall.

Was this Freddy?

It's not even..it's only Tuesday.

And--did Chica growl?

What..is this?

Mike found himself overtaken with a hesitation he's never felt before, heart stopping so suddenly. He couldn't move, his body wouldn't let him even try.

48%.

He could just close the door, but his limbs wouldn't budge.

A sudden crash had him regain control, striking his palm down onto the scarlet toggle and nearly reeling himself forward in his panic.

It closed in a metallic slam, a lever pulling and bringing the door down with a loud clang that sounded throughout the entire pizzeria. Mike's body shook with a tremble he'd only felt on his first day, the bell tolling it's 6AM chime to release Mike from his duties.

Something banged against the door violently right after, the sound of..metallic teeth, gnashing against the door and scraping. 'Nails' clawed at it just the same, guttural snarls coming from outside. A low groan, and he decided to check the cameras.

Mike almost didn't notice the fox leaving his curtains, the sounds of steely footsteps thudding their way over to his door. He whacked the side of his fist against the control, nearly missing as he wheeled his chair over to the door in such a flash. Foxy banged at the door the same way, but atleast HE eventually stopped.

He felt like chewing his goddamned nails off, his nerves wracking as the beast to his right never left. It was making him, god forbid, anxious, considering his battery was draining faster than a sewage gutter.

For a good half of the night, he had to listen to that god awful rasping from whatever rests beyond the cast door.

But, at some point, he heard it get even goddamn louder. It wasn't raking its nails against the blast door anymore--it was scuffing some sort of..wait.

A loud, mechanically pitched screech faced a gravelly roar, and all Mike could hear after that was the sounds of bones being crunched, blood splattering against the floor in drops and flows. It became the only sound he could hear for a good minute, and soon he just tried to block it out.

That was, until it stopped.

Mike felt his head snap back up to face the blast door, his figure shaking like a leaf. It'd been so long since he felt true fear, and whatever was out THERE? It might be worse than a few animatronics, that's for sure.

For the rest of the night, he made sure Bonnie nor Foxy snuck in, trying his damndest to not waste power while also keeping the right door shut the entire time.

He didn't wanna open the right door.

Not for a good while..no.

Mike leaned back into his chair once Bonnie decided to run off to the dining room, and Foxy still hid behind his curtains.

He felt his stomach churn once he caught the smell filling his senses--maybe he hadn't noticed at first, since it always smelled like that--but it certainly did now.

..blood.

Decay.

Jesus, not grease, but this place sure had that smell.

Mike held a hand against his nose, trying to filter out the smell in a futile attempt. It didn't work too well, and it might as well be the equivalent to just not having done anything in the first place, at all.

What..what if..

..no.

He flipped up the cameras, the small tablet now monitoring atleast all of the surveillance cameras besides the kitchen. Switching from the main stage, he watched Bonnie's vacant, hollow eyes follow him from the supply closet, he always fuckin' watched..didn't he?

Just gotta make sure, he told himself, checking in on Foxy for a hot second--and then switching to the hallway.

It was too dark to see. He can't even--

Mike could've been staring for a little too long, but his eyes locked onto a dark, limp figure, covered in some fucking muck and surrounded in a pool of his own blood. Their head looked like Chica, maybe Freddy, had bitten into it.

Oh, fuck.

It was some random fella', it had to be. Maybe a robber, because his boss HAD to be hiding something with the amount he's making off these animatronics.

Mike's head pounded, and, fuck. He nearly vomited--skin crawling at the very thought.

Poor, poor dude.

He tried to ignore his head pounding this hard--it almost had him wanting to just black out. His heart ached, lurching into his stomach and residing there, nails clutching to his skull to fight the pain.

This wasn't what he signed up for.

Wait, if it was the robber,

why were they tryna' bite at the fucking door?

..fuck.

Mike found it hard to breathe, his chest was on fire--he tried taking a moment to let it go, to suck it up and tell management the next morning so they can try to cover up the poor fellas' death.

It wasn't easy, but he calmed down as soon as he heard the deafening gong of 6AM. Battery was at an easy-going 11%, and he realized he should probably keep an eye on it better instead of thinking about things to say to management. His life is number one priority.

..but it didn't stop him from feeling bad for the dude.

He thought the dude was a fucking monster, he was just tripping out.

The smell was getting worse, he should call one of the janitors to clean this shit up. Bad for business, y'know, seeing a dead body in the hallway.

The right door was opened, as to not waste the day power his boss has a fucking hissy fit over.

He didn't want to look into the hallway. The thought terrified him, heart skipping a beat. If he looked at the dude right now, he'd probably pass out, and god knows how the JANITOR will feel once he has to clean up the guy's brains, and the animatronic.

Mike still had to open up, even though there's a dead fella' lying a few feet away.

Might as well call someone to get the janitor while he's doing chores, and only the phone guy he talks to (sometimes) knows that poor dude.

He made his way to the phone sitting a foot or two away, holding the earpiece to the side of his head and dialing the phone guy's number. They were on a pretty good basis considering their conversations outside of work, he's a nice dude.

Always doing what's best for other people, a bit selfless, even.

He didn't deserve Freddy's..most people didn't.

That's why he stays.

The dialtone was creepy as all hell, but he chose to ignore it in favor of calling the phone guy for the janitor.

Mike solemnly wonders if he's sleeping, once he doesn't pick up, and the room goes silent again.

It was so, so quiet. A low hum from the generator, a soft buzz from the light above his head.

A shudder ran down his spine, he could feel the goosebumps the longer he stood there.

He'll tell his boss, first thing he gets here--to get the janitor.

Mike silently hopes phone guy's having a better night than him, right now. Poor guy's always so high-strung, never takes a break. It also comes with working with Freddy's too, he supposed. You can't have super hearing, vision and an iron bladder without being on-edge all the time.

Alright, well, if the phone guy ain't picking up, he'll just open up until boss gets here, and then he can fill him in on the details.

Fishing out a small note from his pocket, he unwrapped it, reading his bosses shitty cursive handwriting carefully, as well as not giving too many fucks about it. Not all of it is too important, he just wishes phone guy would pick up and call the janitor so he can stop thinking about the dark, putrid puddle of gore leaking into the office.

'1. Make sure everyone is in their proper places

2\. Turn on power in the backstage area

3\. Make sure everything in the freezers haven't melted

4\. Clean up after yourself

5\. Open up the backdoors, frontdoors and lock the backstage area

If needed,

6\. Call Seth, our assistant manager for any questions and/or concerns with the animatronics. His phone number is as follows..'

Mike trailed off after that, crumpling the paper and putting it back into his pocket. He takes a short moment to think, his name's fucking Seth?

Anyways--fuck, he's gonna say it. He hates going even NEAR the stage, but it's his second task.

The first one's already solved once he goes near the backrooms, so, it could be considered his first task.

Well..this should be fun.

Making his way over through the left hall, he stomped down over to the main stage, trying to ignore the lifeless fuckers empty gazes on him. He can't tell, but he swears they're watching him. Motherfuckers--grow some balls and face him like a man if you're just gonna stare!

Patience definitely wears thin after a long, long night.

He takes another left, now facing the backstage room, or, moreso just a Parts & Services room. He figures they call it backstage to make it more magical, and not just..robotic sounding.

Mike puts a hand onto the doorknob, turning to open the door and, soon enough, he did the simplest fucking task. Opening the door.

He hastily flipped a small switch, and with that--he heard a crackle of electricity run through the wall before the entire building's electric system came up, nearly giving him a fucking brain aneurysm with the way the lights had flooded the entire goddamn place.

Looking behind himself to check out ALL of the lights, he watched one of the animatronics twitch, and fuck, the sight was a frightening, as well as a gut twisting one.

Chica, lock-jawed and covered in ichor around the face. A small sludge running down her torso. Her head made this whirring sound, a small click from every time she did twitch, and once he looks closer, it looks like she might be staring at the right hallway.

She became lethargic in her pattern, and before he knew it, she'd become stiff, even sterile, if she was once living..ever.

Mike faced the hallway on accident, he didn't really mean to, it was instinctive.

Once he did--he regretted it.

He couldn't begin to describe what it'd looked like now. On the cameras, it was nearly pitch-black, only a insignificant amount of light managing to cast the halls dimly. Another thing that wasted his power, of course. It was worse seeing it now, what with the rooms lit and brighter than before.

It was horrid.

Horrid, is to put it lightly, although.

Mike looked away, stomach churning and threatening him with an pulse that had an acidic taste rushing up into his throat, only barely managing to swallow it.

He watched the chicken to his left, despite not wanting to. It was cause for concern if she was up and about at daytime, glitching out worse than at night. He didn't want to get HIS head bitten off, after he'd just seen the predicament the poor robber had gotten himself into.

After a good few minutes of his heart nearly pummeling from his chest, he looked to his next task.

The freezers. Of course.

Mike grimaced. His life was on the line for a few boxes of frozen pizza and some soda, while he could be resting peacefully at night.

This is just his luck, really.

He made a bee-line for the kitchen, slipping inside the room and looking at the freezers. Illuminated by a softer daffodil shade, they gave out a droning 'purr' that he assumed meant the pizza was perfectly fine. He still had to check, of course.

The doors opened with a small knock against the locks that attached them to the freezer itself, and as it turns out, the oh-so-precious pizza was still freezer burned, just for the hungry customers.

Mike went into one of the fridges, opening it with a small suction sound, before snatching a soda out from it and sitting atop one of the mini-freezers, more or less used for storing bags of stuff. Tonight, he deserved atleast something for having to witness a dead fucking body.

His fever that started last week had faded away, so now he could go back to eating unhealthy shit till he got sick not from a fever, but instead a sugar high.

It popped open with a fizzle, to which he immediately put to his lips after he'd taken off the pull tab.

A minute or two passed by fast, and he was already back up on his feet, throwing the can itself into the trashcan and giving an exhausted groan. A stretch was all it took, and he was out of the room in mere seconds.

He thought he heard a low, quiet groan come from outside of the side-window in the kitchen, but he'd assumed he'd heard a cricket instead. Those crickets got too loud at 6AM, really.

Mike had already cleaned up after himself a few days ago, after Seth nagged him about nearly overfilling the garbage can with tissues. He'd even cleaned up after Seth's binge after he'd gotten those food stamps from the government. Man, he sure likes his sweets. Ate nearly an entire fuckin' bag of candy!

It was time to open up, which is something he looked forward to, atleast. Today was fucking up his mental psyche, and now he could definitely use a break.

He locked up the backrooms, first.

Then he opened up the employees only backdoor for the restaraunt--sometimes the front doors don't unlock. It's creepy to go near Pirate's Cove, but it's better than no other exit.

And, finally, the front doors were the last he had to unlock. Metal handles, but shitty glass.

He still remembers when somebodies brat threw a fucking ROCK at the glass. Left a huge crack in it, and once a customer tried opening a door, a large chunk of glass fell on them, shattering to pieces.

Lawsuit material, if he's ever heard of it.

Mike looked outside from the glass doors, and it wasn't too surprising nobody was outside yet. Customers came at around..

Wait.

It WAS 7am.

..yeah, he thinks he might've spent a little too long in that damn kitchen.

Okay, so maybe he didn't spend just a few minutes like he said. Time passes too fast, and his mental balance is like trying to 'balance' a feather and a 30kg rock. Don't put that blaming shit on him!

Well..he checked twice--and it was confirmed. Nobody's outside, not even his boss.

Actually, his boss should be here, too.

Christ, what is going on?

Mike left the main area, forgetting the front doors, leaving them closed just as the animatronics came to life and nearly had him go through cardiac arrest, heart so close to hammering outside of his chest and into his hand. Woulda' been nice if he hadn't slipped and fell onto his ass, feeling the animatronics piercing stare mocking him from afar.

He stood in front of the phone, ignoring the stench coming from the right that had somehow gotten more unpleasant, his nose beginning to physically reject the oxygen in the air.

It had no fucking business smelling this bad.

He spun the dial, working his bosses number into the phone until the tone began once more. But, like Seth, he never picked up. He tried, twice. His boss must be sleeping in..could he do that?

Huh.

Mike double-checked the time, eyes squinting in the light now flooding the pizzeria. Spotty patches of dust flew through the air, the heavy smell of blood still filling his senses up, airily.

Party streamers glimmered in the day, reflecting the sun off of them and bouncing it down back onto the ground. Confetti from yesterday sat on the rustic boards, as well as a few knocked-over party hats from yesterday's birthday kiddo. Mike watched the balloons knock against eachother, a small glare coming off the rubber.

It felt..empty. Lonely, at that.

A gentle breeze blew through the crack of the front doors, the cold making Mike shiver.

And,

then,

he heard it.

It was small, but he heard it, the careful budge of metal scraping against thick spray-paint. Mechanical joints squeaking, a low cry of protest from the machine itself.

A footstep, a hefty one at that.

He was supposed to turn them on earlier,

and he never did.

So, why was..

..why were they moving past 6am?

Mike nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned around, coming face-to-face with Chica herself. She sat near inches away from him, a hoarse, scratchy whine coming from her audio-box.

The blood on her torso still ran down from her jaw, the murky texture drying to a flakier one. It was drying, much to Mike's distaste, a bile beginning to crawl its way up from the depth of his throat--but Chica wasn't moving. She sat, the same, jarring squeal coming from her.

And then, she attempted to lunge at him.

Mike almost lost his shit, heart flying out of his chest as he gave a split-second thought to himself, ('what the FUCK?') before catching himself against the splinter cluttered floor and hoisting himself back up from his position.

She didn't want to stuff him anymore,

she wants to eat.

Outside of his internal freakout, he could hear the others activating from their slumber along with Chica's sudden attack. The ventilation of their systems blowing out the steaming air was loud enough for Mike to hear in his panick, and he immediately got to his feet, rushing to the door.

Wait--no.

Fuck no.

NO.

Mike pulled, and pulled, and pulled with all the strength he even had left in his fucking body after such a long night.

He forgot to unlock the door.

Behind him, he could hear them stalking towards the front. Okay, no big deal, he could just unlock the doors..right?--but, well, that's what he thought, patting his shaky palm against his belt, actively searching for the keys he so desperately needed--and realized that in the scuffle he and Chica had fought--

They sat on the ground, unused, jingly as ever.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK--this day can NOT get any worse.

With a clenched fist, he turned,

but they'd cornered him.

Whipping back around to check on their positions, they sat, limbs twitching with every second that passed.

All six eyes swerving to stare back and forth at the man before him, servos clicking and motor growling with each movement. Mike looked to the spaces between them, and at that moment, Mike only saw one last option.

His death may be set in stone, but at least he'd have tried.

Mike dove under them, making his way through the gap between the animatronics and nearly killing himself in the planning. He almost knocked his noggin against Bonnie's left arm and gave away his master plan, but once he heard the sound of a ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech directly from the gates of hell, he knew he had succeeded--but now he had to run like absolute hell.

Scrambling up from his tomb on the floor, he ignored the small wooden splinters integrating themselves into his flesh. His dress shoes hit the floor with a start, and he pretty much just put all physical (and mental) damaging aside, it was too distracting to think about how hard his knee got scraped.

The phone blared from the office--as he passed it, he could definitely hear it 'bring, bring'. He couldn't stop now, and he feels his heart pang, realizing what might happen if he doesn't pick up and whoever's calling comes here unknowing.

He has to think about the trudging animatronics wanting to eat his goddamn brains, right now. Was it some type of malware? A virus? A malfunction?

Is this their new way of greeting customers?

His mind ran in circles as his fast feet brought him down to Pirate's Cove, before he came to an abrupt stop. The curtains shuffled, but the door was so close. He could rush through it, he could still try to..

..oh.

He gave up on the backdoor once the curtain opened, and behind it unsheathed the pirate himself.

Foxy.

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin, feet racing backwards as the pirate hopped off from his stage. Behind him, he could hear the pirates thunderous stride coming towards him, and he wondered, just for a moment.

How close was he?

And, with that, the pirate struck his steel hook into Mike's back, sinking it down beneath tender, warm flesh and ripping it clean out. Mike screamed, a pained wail at best--and then began the reactions to the action itself.

Fat, blobby tears began streaking down his face, teeth grinding against each crown with pursed lips. He tried blinking the tears away, falling to his knees with a thump. Foxy still sat above him, cracked voice-box struggling to give out a small catchphrase, but only managed to get out the whine of muffled feedback before he crashed to the floor next to Mike.

White, pinpricked pupils glared back at him, one eye fractured and the other just plain grimy.

His jaw hung open, voice-box still droning on.

...

Mike realized that he wasn't dead, so that was a start.

He made a last-stitch attempt at looking up towards whoever at just saved him, and there sat Seth, holding a rusty pipe in all of his artificial glory. The sunlight made him look otherworldly, his form glowing with an angelic hue. Mike thinks that it might just be him going nuts, but he sees it.

Seth began just as soon as Mike opened his mouth, unclenching his teeth. "Mi-Mike, get up! I don't know how long F-Foxy's staying down.." Seth reached out a hand, "H-He didn't GET you, right? You can still move?"

Mike shook his head, a horrible wheeze beginning to form in his chest. He coughed, but Seth just picked him right up.

A jolting pain went through his body, but Seth just chose to disregard it in sense of running out the backdoor. "Listen, Mike, there's--there's something wrong with them." he paused, "And, not just the usual stuffing you in a suit stuff. I mean, it's even worse."

Seth was running to his car with Mike, now, and Mike could've sworn he heard the loud bang of a locked door trying to be busted open. He thinks Seth must've locked the door, but he was so out of it to the point he could barely recall it.

"They just wanna..well, all they want to do is eat." Seth continued, "The last technician we had, he put something in em' that makes em' like that. Or, well--that's what we're assuming. It's the only lead boss had, but the technician ran off to god only knows where once boss caught wind of it, once he walked into the building at 7am, exactly yesterday, I think."

Seth was rushing to buckle the slouched man in, moving his arms all over everywhere as he faded in and out of consciousness. He bled heavily into the backseat, but Seth didn't seem to mind.

"Animatronics--they tried attacking boss. Luckily, boss got outta' there, so our paychecks are safe, don't worry." Seth reached to pat Mike on the back, but only got a handful of blood, coating his hands sticky and red. He wiped it off onto his pantleg, though.

The door had apparently been smashed down, and that's when Seth stopped fumbling with Mike's seatbelt and just hopped in hurriedly into the driver's seat, sliding over the hood in his rush.

"Boss called em' zombies..sounds crazy, huh?" Seth's tires screeched across the parking lot, a loud clang hitting against his car just as he did so. The engine of his car roared, a warm feeling (probably his blood) spreading through his chest as he grasped the idea they'd finally gotten away.

"Well," Seth shrugged, "Whaddya' think? They zombies or what?"

Mike only lifted his head in response, looked at Seth, wheezed, and passed out.

DOES he have patience? Even for zombie animatronics?

Probably not.

**Author's Note:**

> Who remembers those scene FNaF pictures where Mike is just absolutely //covered// in scene makeup and has that gigantic scene hair with green highlights and purple eyeshadow?
> 
> You probably haven't, but now you're imagining it aren't you?


End file.
